


Among the Evergreens

by Ravensandstars



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Beast!Gaston, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2018-10-08 10:26:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10384599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravensandstars/pseuds/Ravensandstars
Summary: There were always whispers about the forest, and though Lefou was never one to believe the legends he quickly found himself plunged into a world far more fantastical than he could have ever imagined.Beast!Gaston AU





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> A quick note before you begin: The roles of most of the characters have been reversed, and I have taken care to mold each character's personality and traits to reflect this.  
> Enjoy!

There were many legends that surrounded the woods of Belcastel, each one more confounding than the last.  

Having grown up here I’d heard them all since I was a small boy.  Each tale, though more wild than the last, revolved around the ruins of the old castle that lay in the heart of the forest.  They called the castle a dark memory of the plague days. 

Of course, no living man or woman had ever actually seen the ruins, they were far too frightened by what lay dormant there, and so the ruins lay undisturbed.  

I never cared much for the legends, preferring to focus on myself and my work.  I wasn’t the smartest man, but I knew how to work the land and skin an animal, and that was enough for me.  The villagers would watch me strangely whenever I came into town, and I could see the questions in their eyes, wondering why a bachelor would be content to simply toil and help his aging father, never searching for a wife in a town filled with women of marriageable age. 

They never dared look further than that, for fear of finding a truth that was perhaps too unpleasant for them to fathom. 

On my part I did my best to hide that inclination which would have given me  _ very  _ unfavorable attention.  

Of course, I was on amiable terms with some of the young men around my age in the village, but I never truly found  _ friends  _ here, though i’ve lived here all my life.  Sometimes, in the dark of night when all I could do was stare at hairline cracks in the ceiling and wish I could go to Paris.  

Oh to live in a city, where men of my persuasion could at least live with some degree of freedom.  

Not that I would ever go there of course.  Though miserable I was reluctant to leave the home I’d known all my life.  I am not a particularly brave man, nor do I have the inclination to be. I found that the mundane is far safer than the exciting.  

Of course, life doesn’t always ask you what you prefer, as I learned on the morning my life changed forever.  

I had to go to the market to pick up some more food, trying my best to avoid the eye of the spinsters who constantly tried to find matches for me, pointing out the ladies who waved, small coy smiled decorating their faces.  I knew I wasn’t a looker, especially with my expanded waistline and forgettable face.  

Not that it mattered, even if I was the most handsome man in the village I could not, in good conscience take a wife. 

But I digress.  I spent most of the morning at the bakers, watching the town mill about as old m. Villefort baked his mouth-watering loaves. The spinsters seemed to be busy with some other poor blighter, and I was left to go home with arms full of food.  

Until, of course, I ran into the person I least wanted to see right outside my door. My heart sunk at the sight of him.

“Adam, what are you doing here?”

Adam, a moderately handsome man and son of some minor nobility, was the blight of the town.  He was idolized by all, though for what I never understood.  He hated me of course, and I was terrified that he knew my secret, for something in the way he looked at me told me he had an inkling. 

“Well well, what do you have here, a worm slithering back home,” he drawled, hand on the hilt of the rapier he always carried with him.

“Come on, what do you want.  I have done nothing to you,”  I replied, frown deepening.  

Adam’s smile turned sinister, and my stomach churned.

“Go see your father first my friend, and we will talk.”

I all but ran inside, dropping the food on the table and running downstairs to my father, who was tinkering with one of his inventions.

“Papa, has something happened,” I asked quickly, watching as he looked up from his work, confusion in his eyes.

“No son, though that m. Adam is here to speak with you.  Strange, I did not think he bothered with folk like us!”  

A small laugh bubbled up at that, and father’s eyes twinkled.  I let out a loud sigh and turned my head towards the garden.

“Well, I’d better see what monsieur holier-than-thou wants,” I said, and father patted my shoulder, eyes full of sympathy.

“Yes of course, the sooner he leaves the better,” I laughed as I made my way upstairs and back into the garden, avoiding the chickens that scampered around the flowerbeds.  Adam  lounged against the horse’s fence, tapping his fingers against the dark wood. 

“There you are, I was beginning to think you’d gotten lost.”

“No, just trying to delay the inevitable,” I muttered, taking a fistful of feed and throwing it to the agitated birds. I looked up at him expectantly, unease growing the wider his smile became.

“Well my man, I have a favor to ask you.”

“What kind of favor,” I asked, moving out of the way when he tried to clap my back, as though we were anything resembling friends.  

“Well Lefou, I thought that, perhaps, if you fetched something for me, I could do a favor for you, something that you could never do yourself,” Adam said, fingers smoothing the hairs of his thin moustache.

“Oh yes and what favor is that,” I asked, backing away almost by instinct as Adam inched forward.

“I can get the spinsters to stop bothering you.  After all, a man like  _ You _ ,”he drawled, eyes flashing dangerously, “Has no need for a wife, now does he”

Horror burned like acid in the pit of my stomach, and my eyes widened.

“So y-you’re blackmailing me,” I stuttered, angry at how badly my hands had begun to shake.

“Blackmail is such a nasty word.  Besides, how can it be blackmail if I’m doing you a favor as well,” Adam replied, a fair brow rising.

I didn’t trust him even for a second.

“If I say no, then?”

“Well, if you say no, life will become quite unpleasant for you and your poor, ill father.  At his age moving would be quite difficult, wouldn’t it.?”

I gritted my teeth, but dared not look away from Adam; for he was like a wild animal, ready to pounce at the smallest sign of weakness.  For a few tense moments we just watched each other, until I could take it no longer.

“Fine, I’ll do your favor, just leave father out of this, please,” I relented, and the other man’s face lit up, victory curling his lips upward.

“Perfect!  Why don’t you meet me at the edge of the woods tomorrow, bring a warm jacket, it’s cold at the outskirts.”

With those parting words he left, and I sagged against the steps, breaths coming out in short bursts.  My god, how had it come to this!  When I finally got up again I trudged inside, trying not to seem too down.

When father asked what Adam had wanted I told him that he needed an errand completed on the estate farm.  I hated lying to the old man but I didn’t need him worrying about me, especially going out into the forest. 

Just the word sent a stab of fear through my gut.  I didn’t believe any of the legends, not really, but generations of fear had been planted into my head since I was a child, and one didn’t simply get rid of that kind of terror.  

I spent the entire night awake, eyes squeezed shut as I tried not to imagine what I had to do the next day.

 

I left before the sun rose, stars still dotting the sky.  I did not bother to wake father when I would probably be back when he naturally awoke, instead tiptoeing to the front door with a lantern, my axe, and the worn wool cape I preferred to wear on chilly days.  

My walk was spent with my racing thoughts.  I trudged through the empty town with a frown firmly plastered on my face, I just couldn’t understand what Adam would want with those woods.  He rarely went to that side of town, preferring to stay around the village center or in his own estate with his wife Belle. 

I was surprised to find him already waiting there, rapier in hand, Belle at his side.  She looked as though she’d been run ragged.  She still looked lovely as ever, of course, but the dark circles under her eyes were far more pronounced than usual, and she seemed to have her husband’s arm in a very tight grip.

“Good morning sir,” I said quietly.  Adam jumped, turning to me with a pale face, lips pressed to a line.

“What’s the big deal, sneaking up on us like that!  Come on, you must find him quickly.”

“Him,” I said, furrowing my brow.

“Yes, dear Belle’s horse ran into the woods two days ago and has not returned.  He is quite loyal to her, and must be brought back.  That is where you come in,” Adam said, voice  matter of fact.  

I stared at him in shock, shaking my head vigorously.

“You want me to go  _ into  _ the woods!”

“Don’t tell me you’re actually scared of these woods!”

Though the words were uttered contemptuously the fear in the man’s eyes was palpable, his pupils the size of pinpricks. 

“No, of course not,” I said quickly, wrapping my cloak more tightly around my bulky frame as a gust of wind swept through the edge of the woods.

“Good, then it’s settled.  Belle’s stallion goes by thunder.  Call his name if you see him and he will follow,” Adam said.  Without further ado he turned on his heel and began to walk away, leading Belle with him. 

“Wait a moment,” I called out, “Where am I to bring the horse!”

“We will be waiting at the fountain in the town square, the one by the baker’s,” Adam said without bothering to turn back.

I nodded, though I knew he couldn’t see me.  I took several deep breaths to try and calm my racing heart, and briefly closed my eyes as though I could erase the forest from my vision.  

“Come on Lefou, be brave for once, you have no choice anymore,” I whispered to myself, and took one step forward, then another, until I had begun to weave through the trees.

“How could I get myself into such a mess,” I sighed, holding my lantern out before me, it’s glowing light a small comfort in the inky blackness.  

The further I walked the darker it became.  Slivers of light would occasionally peek through the tall evergreens.  I listened closely for any sound other than my own feet against the leaves and fallen twigs.  

Occasionally, I would see a strange shadow out of the corner of my eyes but I chalked it down to the paralyzing fear that bubbled just below the surface. I shook my head and kept walking, occasionally calling out for Thunder.

Finally, after what must have been at least a few hours since the blackness of the forest had brightened, I was rewarded with the faint sound of a whinny.  

My lantern was discarded as I broke into a run, yelling for the horse and following his frightened sounds.  Though my lungs burned and sweat broke out on my brow I did not stop until I had reached the dark horse.  

His front legs were reared, eyes wild and frightened.  

Before I took another step forward, however, I realized I had come to a clearing surrounded by thick fog.  It was strange, for the darkness here seemed to be untouched by the sun that had begun to shine.  Indeed, the sky was almost eerily devoid of light, as though someone had sucked the color from it.

I smiled triumphantly at the horse, gently creeping towards him, but he kept backing into the fog.  

Though tendrils of fear began to crawl into my heart once more I followed him into that grey mass.  The fog was somehow freezing, and soon my teeth began to chatter.

“C-c-come on thunder, don’t you want to come home,” I pleaded, walking towards him until I had emerged from the other side of the fog. 

Thunder was instantly forgotten once I emerged from the fog.  I stared at the impossible structure before me, wondering if this was some sort of hallucination brought on by fear.  yet somehow I knew, I just  _ knew _ that I was not seeing things.

“My god,” I whispered, hand coming up to cross myself.

_ The stories are true after all! _

With that final thought I allowed shock to consume me, and my vision faded to total darkness.


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick historical note: During the feudal era and well into the 1700s men wore long hair either braided or loose when not in a wig.

For as long as I live I do not think I will ever forget my first glimpse of that strange little castle in the woods.  

I awoke on the cold dewy ground with a pounding head and thunder nowhere to be seen.  I was slow to rise, reaching blindly for the axe that had fallen with me.  I gripped the wooden handle, it’s weight reassuring in my hand as my heart beat wildly.

When I stood again I stared at the structure before me with eyes wide as dinner plates. 

The structure was not so much a castle as an overlarge hunting lodge, moss creeping over roughly cut grey stones.  Wine-red curtains were drawn over every window, so that the gargantuan lodge seemed like an impenetrable wall.  Dark clouds hung like a miasma over the lodge.  

The strangest thing, perhaps, was the ring of evergreens that seemed to surround the lodge as far as the eye could see, making a half circle of live trees, while the rest of the circle was completed by blackened stumps belonging to the same type of tree.  

I walked into the circle, as though in a trance, to reach Thunder, who was drinking from a small stream near one of the particularly tall trees.  

As I walked further I noticed the stark silence. Not even a bird chirped, and the wind that rustled the grass made no sound.  I shivered and closed my eyes for a long moment, trying to regain my composure, forcing myself to breathe in and out deeply.  Finally I turned towards the horse and called one more time.

“Come on Thunder, please, it’s time to go home,” I said.

The words were like magic.  Without waiting the horse galloped through the woods, disappearing so quickly that running after the animal would do nothing.

I was utterly alone, with nothing but my own instincts to guide me back home and a small axe with which to defend myself. 

“I’m doomed,” I said quietly, walking the way which I had come, until I felt something decidedly solid grasp my cape.

_ Don’t go monsieur, stay a moment won’t you! _

A scream tore through my throat and I turned quickly, finding no one but myself in that empty courtyard.  The hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention, and the courtyard suddenly felt startlingly full.  

_ Come inside, let us help you find your way. _

This time a grip like a vice clamped around my wrist, and I was suddenly pulled in the direction of the lodge.

“No, please, I don’t know what you want from me, I have an ailing father,” I cried out, trying desperately to yank myself out of the specter’s tight grip.

_ Come, warm yourself by the fire monsieur _

Anger began to bubble up in my chest as the specter spoke, her honeyed voice far too close for comfort. 

I tried twice more to wrench my arm from her grip, but the effort was useless, and I had no choice but to allow her to lead me to the massive oak double doors.  

I watched as the heavy iron lock on the door lifted, seemingly by itself.  The doors creaked open, revealing a dimly foyer that branched off into three corridors.  The specter loosened its grip, now gently leading me into the cold lodge and down the center corridor. 

As I walked candles lit on either side of me, illuminating the dusty wooden floor beneath my feet and the heavy silk tapestries that hung on the walls of the corridor.  Each woven masterpiece depicted scenes of hunting or the chasing of prey.  I noticed only one tapestry that differed from the others, both in color and scene.  It was strange to see the sudden shock of blue and red among those somber black and gold scenes.  

I wanted to stop and examine that landscape of thread, but the invisible hand tugged insistently at my wrist, and I continued to follow whatever it was down the hallway.  We continued silently for some time, until finally I came upon a well-lit dining room.  

All the windows were covered, as they were at the front of the lodge, and a fire roared in the ornate stone fireplace.  A plain wooden table took up much of the space of the room, and at the head of the table was a sumptuous feast.

The scent of roast pork made my mouth water, as did the loaf of dark bread and the flagon of red wine.  My stomach growled, as though having suddenly realized how long it had gone without being filled.  My cheeks flushed, though I did not know how I could feel embarrassed around a  _ specter  _ of all things. 

_ Eat, Monsieur. _

I needed no more prompting.  Whether delusion or reality this situation seemed doomed for me, I might as well get a good meal out of it. When I sat down in the chair the pressure on my wrist was finally released, though I could still feel her presence close to me, like a chill that would simply not let up.

I ate my fill, digging in ravenously until I was all but gorged on food.  

“Thank you,” I said, and nothing but silence answered me.

I moved in front of the fire to warm myself when I suddenly felt a most peculiar tremor that seemed to come directly through the floor where I sat.

“Who  _ DARES  _ trespass on my grounds!”

The voice, deep and animalistic, echoed off the walls like thunder, and I shot straight up from my position on the floor. The lights dimmed as I scrambled against the far wall and the presence of the specter disappeared.

Some help she was.

A large shadow appeared in the firelight, taller than any man I’d ever seen, and each step echoed in the chamber like that of hooves.  

I began to hyperventilate, growing lightheaded  and finally shutting my eyes tightly when the steps grew closer.

I stayed like that for an eternity, praying to God to spare my life, I didn’t want to die alone in this strange and sinister place.  I whimpered when I felt a hand, a furred hand, grip my chin tightly.

Hot breath blew against my face, and the deep voice spoke once more.

Open your eyes trespasser.  

There was nothing to do but obey that commanding voice and so I did, bile rising in my throat as I looked upon the face of the creature who lorded over the domain.

Two long twisted antlers branched from the top of his head, and he was covered head to toe in short coarse brown fur, with only a strip of humanlike black hair braided down his back.  His nails were black and sharpened to a point, and in place of feet were black hooves.  His clothing, though well-kept, was very outdated; a long wool tunic emblazoned with a fleur de lis and a pair of dark hose.  

“God have mercy, the legends are true,” I said, unable to look away from the beast’s beady red eyes.

He let out a rasping laugh, letting go of my chin as he paced around the dining room, watching me as a predator watches his pray.

“There is no God here monsieur, only this wretched beast that you see before you, you abandoned God the moment you decided to step foot here.”

“Wait, I did not come inside on my own volition,” I cried in protest, “ I was only trying to bring back a horse for the lord of my village, some specter brought me inside to this I swear!”

The beast gave me a deadpan stare, pointing to the half-eaten food at the table.

“And this specter just so happened to serve you food from my kitchens,” he said.

_ He looked so hungry master! _

I was relieved to hear that voice come to my defense, especially after pulling me into this dreadful mess. 

“Be silent Giselle, you had no right to bring a stranger here,” the beast shouted, and my hands began to shake.  I balled them into fists, the last thing I needed was for the monster to see my fear, though I was quite sure he could smell it on me.  

“Please, I meant no harm, I beg you allow me to go on my way.  My father is ill, he has no one to care for him,” I pleaded, voice somehow unable to rise above a whisper.  

The beast turned to me with something akin to pity in his eyes, and when he spoke my blood ran cold.

“There is one thing the legends seemed to leave out Monsieur; no man can leave these grounds once he has entered the palace of the beast, we are surrounded by a magic older than you can imagine.”

With a few words the entirety of my world was destroyed, and I could do nothing but sink to the floor, tears filling my eyes so rapidly that I was unable to blink them away.

I was trapped here, with nothing but a monster and a specter to keep me company. 


	3. Three

Candles blazed together in the wooden chandelier above my head as the fire crackled behind me.  The beast sat opposite me, staring directly at me as a dusty bottle of wine poured into a high-stemmed glass seemingly by itself.  

A strange calm had washed over me, the kind of calm that one can attain only when a situation is so hopelessly lost that there is nothing more to do than accept it.  I watched the beast carefully; waiting for him to speak first.  I, of course, was bursting with questions and demands but, considering the nature of my host, considered it a wise course of action to allow him to start. 

I did not have to wait long.

“You said your father was ill,” the beast said, expression unreadable.

“Yes Monsieur, and he has no one else to care for him!” I said, barely able to suppress the anger in my voice.

Whether it was at myself or the beast I did not know.

“I will send one of my servants out to care for your father.  An old man should not pay for his son’s mistakes, and my people have to power to leave the grounds when they see fit,” the beast said.

“What servants, I have seen no one but you, and surely a specter does not count as a servant,” I replied, ignoring the painful words that were all too true. 

“There are no specters here monsieur-” the beast stopped speaking and looked at me expectantly, whereupon I realized neither of us had given our names.

“Lefou,” I said quickly.

The creature raised a bushy eyebrow.

“Surely that cannot be your  _ actual  _ name,” the beast said incredulously, and my cheeks burned with embarrassment.

“It might as well be.  That is what the villagers have called me as long as I can remember,” I said, a touch of defiance in my tone.  Hardly anyone knew my given name, and no matter how long I had to spend with this beast he didn’t need to know it.

He shrugged.

“Fine. As long as we are keeping some degree of anonymity you can call me beast, or monsieur.  Now that we are acquainted, allow me to introduce my so-called specters.”

The beast snapped his fingers and three women materialized around the room: one in the chair beside me, one tending the fireplace, and the third by the door. They were radiantly beautiful, with iridescent black skin that glowed with visible auras.  Their eyes were bright silver, like little moons.  The most startling thing, perhaps, were the almost-invisible wings that flickered in and out of view on their backs.

“Fair folk, I cannot believe what I’m seeing,”  I murmured, inching away from the one beside, me, all the stories rushing at me like gunshots.

The beast curled his lips into something resembling a smile, long sharp canines peaking out beneath his lips.  

“You have no choice, Lefou, this is your home now.  I shall send someone to your father presently.  In the meantime, I’m sure Giselle would be more than willing to show you to your quarters.”

Before I could protest the brusque treatment the beast stood and all but flew from the room, 

I was left alone with Giselle, the fae beside me, and the roaring fire.  She wouldn’t meet my eyes, instead staring a hole through the table.

It took a moment, but then everything clicked into place.

“You, you’re the one who dragged me inside,” I shouted, jumping to my feet and pointing a finger at her.

“You were already condemned when you came into the grounds Monsieur Lefou, there was no use delaying the inevitable,” she replied, voice quiet.  

She was right, I knew she was right, and it drained all the anger out of me, leaving only that bone-deep exhaustion that makes one want to sleep for days.

I followed her through the lodge, the hallways seemingly endless, up more flights of stairs than seemed possible for a hunting lodge.  I listened to her explain everything in a daze, until she said something that caught my attention.

“You have free reign of the grounds, as well as the main and east wings of the lodge.  The west wing is forbidden to you.”

I turned to her, curiosity bubbling in my stomach.

“The west wing, is that where-”

“Yes,” she said quickly, “That is where the master lives.”

I nodded, unable to help thinking how strange it was.  If I was unable to leave anyways, why be so secretive about his quarters?  For the moment I held my tongue.  It was obvious that Giselle was unwilling to talk about it, and I was not one to push.  I could bide my time, I was sure she would talk once we knew one another better.

At least, I hoped so.

I was so lost in thought that I walked right into the fae when she came to a sudden stop before one of the doors.  I quickly jumped away, smoothing down my clothing and muttering an embarrassed apology.  

“It’s of no consequence, here is your room,” she said quietly, though the words still echoed around the vast corridor.  

“How am I to remember which is mine, the doors all look identical,” I said, and Giselle let out an annoyed sigh before placing two fingers at the center of the door.  My name appeared where her fingers had touched in fine cursive script, a few shades darker than the wood.  

“Thank you,” I said.

Giselle did not reply, instead pushing a gold key into my hand.

“Here, two turns right should unlock the room.  If you need anything you need only say my name, or those of my sisters Henriette and Laella, the room should have everything you need.”

“Wait, are there not others here besides you three,” I asked quickly just as the fae turned to leave.  She did not turn around, but spoke with tone that sent a shiver down my spine,

“Not all the fair folk who inhabit the lodge are as kind as we are Monsieur Lefou, do not forget that.”  

Before I could ask anything else Giselle’s form shimmered for a moment and disappeared without so much as a puff of smoke.  I took a deep breath and pushed the key into the lock, turning it twice as instructed.  The lock clicked and I turned the knob slowly, opening the door inch by inch, until it was wide open and I stared at an ornate room that looked as though it belonged in a palace, not  _ here  _ in this gloomy place.

I entered the well lit room, marveling at the oak paneling and giant four-poster bed with its velvet sheets and brocaded decorative pillows.  A large carved wardrobe stood opposite the bed, and beside it a full-length mirror that must have cost a small fortune.  On either side of the bed were two floor-to-ceiling windows covered by sheer curtains the same burgundy shade as the sheets. 

I closed the door behind me and, holding my breath with anticipation, walked over to the wardrobe and threw open the doors.  Sure enough, an assortment of clothes hung there, all new, with three pairs of shoes at the bottom of the wardrobe.  I pulled out the silk nightgown hanging at the end of the wardrobe and marveled at the fine material.

I had spent all my life living in simple wool and cotton that the finery seemed unreal.  

Of course, no matter how find my lodgings it did not change the face that I was a prisoner in this strange place.  

I tried not to think of father’s reaction when the fae came to his home instead of me, and the despair at the loss of his son.

I shook my head vigorously and changed into the sleeping clothes, slipping under the impossibly soft sheets. Exhaustion had finally set in after everything that had happened.

That night I slipped into fitful sleep, dreaming of dead trees, wings, and monsters with the hearts of men.


	4. Four

It all seemed like a dream, a strange fevered dream, and I was convinced that I would awake in my bed the next morning, with father waking me to feed the animals.  Instead, I was awoken with a sharp knock to the door of my new room.

“Who is it,” I called, disoriented and trying to rub the sleep from my eyes. 

“You will join me for breakfast.”

“I’m not hungry,” I called out, suddenly nauseous when I heard the voice of the beast through the door.

There were some angry mutterings, and another more quiet male voice.

“Please, would you join me for breakfast,” the beast asked again.

I rolled my eyes and left the bed to grab a dark robe from the wardrobe and moved to open the door.  The beast looked surprised, balled fist held up to knock on the door once more.  He quickly put it down and cleared his throat.

“Well, about time,” he said, and turned to walk back down the hall, a male fae giving me a strange look before shimmering out of sight.

“Well, being polite gets you a long way,” I muttered, jogging to catch up to him. 

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing, nothing at all,” I said quickly.  

We walked down the hall in an uncomfortable silence, and I feared that breaking it would lead to an outburst from the beast, he seemed quite unpredictable.  That was not surprising however, considering the creature he was.  After all, how could something like him even  _ exist.   _

It was the only question I longed to ask, but I knew I had to bide my time and ask Giselle when she trusted me a little more.  After all, I may have been a bit naive but I certainly wasn’t stupid enough to just outright ask something like that.

Breakfast was a lavish ordeal, with silver platters stuffed with all sorts of delicacies.  I took a little food, unaccustomed as I was to accepting such food, and sneaked looks at the beast, who dug into his food with gusto.  Though I pushed aside my curiosity for the moment there was one question burning in my mind, so I steeled my courage and cleared my throat.

The beast looked up from his food with a frown.

“Yes?”

“Monsieur, would it be possible to farm the land around your estate,” I asked quietly, feeling quite stupid when the beast raised an eyebrow.

“Why on earth would you-”

“I’m a farmer,” I interrupted quickly, fumbling to explain myself, “If I am to be stuck here I may as well do something useful.  Perhaps with the help of the fae I can obtain seeds and work a small corner of the lands.  Besides, I am sure that the fruit and vegetables could be used in the kitchens.”

I gripped the cutlery in my hands tightly as the silence stretched on, and worried that I’d overstepped the invisible boundaries the beast seemed to have set.

“I will ask Armand if it is possible to perhaps clear a plot of land behind the lodge,” the beast said eventually, and my heart soared.  

“Thank you Monsieur, thank you so much,” I said, smiling ear to ear.  I desperately needed the distraction of familiar work, and  _ anything  _ was welcome.  I wanted to dig my hands into the soft soil, let my mind drift off into the blissful rhythm of planting and watering the seeds, doing something other than sitting in my little room too afraid to explore the dreary lodge that had become my home in the past day.

“You are quite easy to please,” the beast quipped, and I let out a bark of laughter.

“I suppose so, but i’ve spent my entire life the laughing stock of a small town, so I have low standards,” I replied.  

“Small towns tend to do that,” the beast said, and his tne was so thoughtful that is sent my mind reeling.

I had not expected the beast to talk at all, let alone hold a conversation with me.  I did not look a gift horse in the mouth, however, and we continued to chat until we’d both eaten our fill and the platters disappeared with a wave of the beast’s hand.

We parted ways in a decidedly warmer manner than we had last night, and I could not help but think that perhaps this beast could be reasoned with.

As the weeks passed I found myself falling into a pattern of happy monotony.  Armand, a pale fae with a perpetual frown and violet wings, cleared off over half of the grounds and gruffy explained to me that no matter what I planted I would have the right amount of sunlight, everything else was up to me.

The only other fae I spoke with besides Armand and the sisters was the young cook Stanley, who had a penchant for crossdressing and was always willing to lend an ear.  I would cook with him some days, and he would tell me bits and pieces about his master, though nothing that would give away his past or an inkling of what was in the west wing.

Rather he would tell me about the beast’s interests, and things that made him angry.  It helped me talk with him when we took our meals together, and as a result the tension of the first week had all but dissipated.  Though he was cold it was obvious that the beast was miserable here, and only God knew how long he had been here with only the fair folk to keep him company. 

Though I have never been one for letters I had taken to keeping a bit of a journal, if only to keep a record of my time here, as proof that I hadn’t imagined all this.  I found a bound journal shoved in the back of the wardrobe, the first few pages having been haphazardly ripped out.  Stanley had provided me with a quill and ink, and so I added another thing to my routine.

The most startling observation I had made as the weeks passed was how much I had settled into the routine of the lodge. Even the worries for father had been soothed one afternoon when Armand came to me and curtly reported that he was regularly checking on father.  

I never asked whether father had mourned my loss, and mercifully the fae had never mentioned anything.  This allowed me to live in some semblance of ignorance.  If I didn’t know, after all, there was no reason to feel alone, no reason to feel abandoned.

The nights were harder, when I would lay alone in my bed wondering if Adam was laughing at me, happy that he got two things he wanted: Belle’s horse and strange little Lefou gone.  On nights that I could feel the melancholy coming on I would prolong dinner, trying to find any reason to keep talking to the beast, until he would get frustrated and retire with a grunt.  

On one such night the sadness became unbearable, so I took a single candle and crept from the room with just my nightgown and robe, prepared to explore the lodge in earnest for the first time in almost a month. 

I peeked into empty rooms, most covered in a thin layer of dust, until I came upon an ajar door near the dining room.  I was nowhere near the west hall, and yet a sliver of light peeked out at me.

I should have turned around at that moment, at least that was what I thought, but my body would not cooperate and I gently pushed into the room.  

It was a study, a rather large one, with an indigo  _ divan  _ and a dark desk inlaid with a mother-of-pearl hunting scene.  On one corner of the room was a plush armchair, within which sat the beast, staring absently at the low fire burning in the fireplace.  I tried to take a step back but the wooden floor squeaked at the most inopportune moment, and the beast’s head swiveled around, maroon eyes wide.

“I-I couldn’t sleep,” I stuttered, gripping the candle all the more tightly to try to stop my hand from shaking.  

For a long moment the two of us simply stared at one another, until the beast motioned to the  _ divan _ .

“Come, sit down, you needn’t stay holed up in your room.”

I took the invitation, sitting on the divan and snuffing out my candle with a strange sense of satisfaction.


	5. Interlude: The Beast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little insight into the beast!

Gaston had never fooled himself into thinking he was a good man.  He had readily taken life, reveled in the heat of battle, and had rarely given a second thought of those around him.  The curse had forced him to change, yet he could not resent it.  He had been forced to examine himself in ways that terrified and humiliated him, and he’d long given up hope of being able to break the curse now that he was nothing but a distant ghost in the eyes of the townsfolk.

Armand had taken every opportunity he could to tell him so, in any case.  Gaston knew the fae knight was particularly resentful of being trapped here.  He longed to taste the fresh air again, to have troops to command.  

Gaston no longer wished for such things.

When the plump young man had stumbled onto the grounds Gaston could have strangled him with rage, how foolish could he be to run into  such an obviously dangerous place to find a horse, of all things!  Later that night Stanley had, with his usual mild manner, that he suspected someone may have forced him to retrieve the horse, for Lefou looked positively terrified. 

Stanley was also the one who told him that Lefou had similar...  _ Tastes. _

“I can see it in his aura,” he said, then whispered so quietly Gaston had to strain to hear him.

“He could also be the one Monsieur Gaston.”

“Don’t be daft, my time has long passed I told you, just focus on trying to reverse the wards to free him,” Gaston had said.  

Of course, what he didn’t tell Stanley was that the idea had already crossed his mind  dozen times.  Lefou was obviously hard working, pleasant to look at, and made up for a lack of genius by being quite earnest and open.  

Of course, it was those very traits that convinced Gaston that his hopes were futile.  There was simply no way that the man would see him as anything other than his captor.

In light of these facts Gaston kept his distance, unwilling to kindle even the slightest hope in himself, instead watching Lefou from the safety of his quarters, imagining what could be.

Some nights he went to the study and let himself imagine, just for a few precious moments, what could be.  He would even try to imagine what Lefou’s real name was, and why he guarded it so zealously.  

It was on such a night that the object of his thoughts stumbled upon the study, entirely on accident, fear clear in his eyes, gentle voice stuttering.

“I-I couldn’t sleep.”

At that moment Gaston knew he could not refuse, not in when he was feeling so vulnerable in these late hours.

They sat together the rest of the night, both falling in and out of sleep, occasionally talking about  nothing in particular.  

For the first time in a century the beast called Gaston allowed a spark of hope to warm his chest.


	6. Six

The beast’s study had become a sanctuary of sorts for me whenever I was homesick.  The plain fireplace and warm atmosphere of the place reminded me of papa’s workshop, though this place was far less cluttered.  

I found myself sitting quietly with the beast more often than not after that, saving my journaling for the moments by the fire, while he would read what looked like military manuals or simply stare out of the window as if searching for something in the darkness.  

Once the beast even summoned Stanley to bring us a midnight snack.  Though tired the fae was positively beaming, a fact which caused me a great deal of confusion. I wrote it off as another one of his peculiarities, turning my attention to the array of delicious morsels on the platter. 

 

In this manner autumn turned to winter, and when the first snow fell I witnessed the strangest occurrence.  

I was potting a few herbs in the greenhouse Armand had constructed earlier in the week, checking the soil, when one of the evergreen trees began to shake.  My heart leapt to my throat as I watched, frozen in shock and fear, as the tree burst, so suddenly, into black ash.  

Perhaps it was because of the shock, or perhaps some strange burst of curiosity, but I put down the plant I was holding and ran out to the remnants of the tree, hand reaching out to touch the ash.  Around the blackened stump, all that remained of the tree was a blackened stump, split down the middle.  

From the ashes, by some strange magic, bloomed flowers, violet petals forming from the air, vibrant and beautiful, and quite deadly.

“Belladonna,” I whispered in horror.  

I knew the plant well.  There had been a scare in the village two years previous when one of Adam’s servants had accidentally ingested the plant, mistaking it for an edible flower.  I had been forced to brew an antidote poison for the first time in my life, and the terror surrounding the village was something I would never forget.  

“Beast, Beast,” I yelled, surprising myself.  I quickly rose and ran for the castle, this could only mean something sinister.

I ran into the castle, yelling his name, yet the lodge seemed strangely empty, not even a fae in sight.  I searched through the study, the kitchens, the entire east wing of the lodge.  

“Come on, where is everyone,” I cried in desperation, and began running towards the center of the lodge, still just as empty as ever.  

In that moment, fueled by desperation, I ran towards the west wing without a second thought. My footsteps echoed on the stone floor as I ran up three flights of stairs, breathing hard, the image of the dying tree fresh in my mind.  

Once the stairs branched off into a corridor I noticed that stone gave way to dark paneled wood, like that of a cabin or an older hunting lodge.  The heads of deer and bears were mounted on the walls, mouths open and eyes wide, creating nightmarish images of terror.  At the end of a corridor was a single, large, open door with just the faintest glimmer of light to indicate that it was occupied. 

As I got closer to the door I noticed portrait after portrait, each one on the floor covered with a thick sheet.  

I floundered for a moment before curiosity won out and I lifted the sheet, eyes widening as I gazed down at the portrait.  The dark eyes of a devastatingly handsome man stared back at me.  Dark hair hung loose around his shoulders and a wide smile brightened his face, showcasing perfect white teeth.  He wore an officer’s uniform with a saber strapped to his hip.   

The man must have been of noble birth, for the quality of the colors and his on dress was of unsurpassed quality.  I reached my hand out, compelled to touch the portrait, so lifelike was the man’s likeness.

“Get out, GET OUT!”

I turned so quickly I almost fell, heart pounding in my chest.  The beast stood before me, teeth bared and red eyes like pinpoints.

“I just, I wanted-”

“GET OUT,” He roared, and I scrambled away from him, running back down the stairs and into the foyer.  I ran out to the courtyard, adrenaline pumping through my veins.  

_ I have to get out, consequences be damned. _

I didn’t even think as I ran through the barrier.  I gasped as a feeling like ice cold water passed through me, but I didn’t stop.  Pressure began to build against my chest, and the wind howled a warning, but I didn’t care.  All I could think of was the beast’s ferocious expression, and my own safety. 

_ You cannot leave, you have not been permitted. _

I ignored the warning reverberating through my head.  The world spun around me as I kept running, trying to put as much distance between myself and the castle.

That was when the wolves arrived.  

There were about three of the beasts, though they doubled as my vision worsened from the lack of oxygen.  They were growling loudly, and I took several steps back, the creatures matching me stride for stride.  

“I’ll never get to see my father again,” I said aloud as the wolves advanced.  My vision began to go black at the edges.

Before oblivion overtook me I saw a pair of antlers slamming into the wolves.  

 

_ Is he awake yet? _

_ Shh, be quiet, don’t wake him up!   _

_ We need to make sure he’s alright. _

I opened my eyes slowly, squinting against the light around me.  Several creatures moved around me, and I felt a cold compress being pressed against my forehead.

“How long have I been unconscious?”

The hand stopped its ministrations, and in a breath the voice attached began to speak.

“Three days.  Monsieur Lefou, I believe I owe you an apology.”  The beast’s voice was uncharacteristically subdued, and once my eyes had finally adjusted to the light I looked up at him.  He looked tired, fur mussed and body slumped.  I noticed that the tip of one of his antlers was jagged, as though it had been broken off, and my heart twisted.

“You saved me, that’s all the apology I need,” I replied and, almost unconsciously, reached a hand up to touch the hurt antler.

The beast’s eyes widened, and his paw reached up to touch my hand, as though he could not quite believe his eyes.  It was a strange feeling, the contrast of the soft fur and the slight scratch of his impossibly sharp nails.

My hand remained there for a moment until the beast pulled away his paw and my hand dropped onto my chest, over my heart. 

For a few moments the beast sat beside me silently, and we both watched the fae mull about preparing poultices that were no doubt meant for my consumption. My mind was hardly on the mixtures however.  I had so many burning questions in my mind, ones which I felt were finally ready to be answered, and so I began to speak.

“Monsieur beast there are many things you have not told me about my home, and though I have been content and have even begun to enjoy life here, I feel that I now have a right to know.  The night before the accident I saw one of your evergreens turn to ash, and from this ash grew one of the most poisonous plants in the area.  What sort of evil magic would cause this?  And the portrait in the west wing, why do you hide it so, what happened here?” I said everything in one breath, afraid that once I stopped the beast would cut me off. 

The beast shut his eyes and leaned back a moment, letting out measured breaths.  When he opened his eyes again he leaned back towards me, and he looked at me as I have never seen him look before.

When he began to speak my eyes grew wide.

“Once, many years ago, I was called Gaston.”

  
  



	7. Gaston

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so sorry for the wait and kinda short chapter, writing block and getting back into an old fandom kinda kicked my ass!   
> Please enjoy!

“Once, many years ago, I was called Gaston.

I was the son of a local prince, made a general by virtue of birth, and that title became my life.  

From my youth ministers, servants, and family alike said I was born to be on the battlefield, and they were right.  Drilling was my passion,  weapons my toys, violence my pleasure.  I was cruel to my servants and hardly different to my friends.  

At sixteen they sent me to fight the English, armed with nothing but gleaming new armor and a sword the royal blacksmith had completed for me that morning.  

I won that battle, and countless others.  My reach was wide and morale high when I became a general.  My parents were content that I was more than suitable to rule, despite the fact that I hardly cared for diplomacy or the finer points of rule.

None of that seemed to matter when I was so popular among my men, so beloved by my subjects.  There was quite a bit of anger against my bloodlust, but I would learn that when it was too late, for my ministers kept dissenters well hidden. 

For years I took my joy from the battlefield and little else.  Occasionally mother would write to me, asking when I would come and choose a bride, when I would begin to think of my duty to start a family.  I would always tell her it was on my mind, that I would be home soon to find a wife.

It was a lie.

I lied to my mother, to myself, and to my men.  They all thought me a great womanizer, a ladies man who caught the attention of all the girls I walked by.  I had buried a secret truth so deeply inside of myself that I agreed with them.

After all, what else was there in those days but for romance between man and woman?

During my time among the soldiers there were a few trysts, we all blamed the heat of battle laughing it off.  I did not hold a shred of true affection for anyone back then, not even my parents.

Of course, even my luck had to come to an end,  though that end was approaching far sooner than I had expected.  

It was during a routine patrol that I came across the enchantress.  She was disguised as a young enemy soldier, disfigured and hobbling towards me, bloody hand outstretched.

‘Please, help me, I beg of you!’

‘And why should I help an enemy,’ I had laughed, prepared to turn away.

‘Wait, please, I will not hurt you, help me I beg of you!,’ that illusion had sobbed. 

I did no such thing.  I took the rifle slung at my back and pointed it at him.

It was at that moment that a bright light flashed, all but blinding me, and yet I could not look away.  

The enchantress stood before me, resplendent in a gown that seemed to be grown from the earth itself, a deep clear green.  

‘So General Gaston, you have shown me your true character tonight.  You will not go unpunished,’ The enchantress said, voice dark and terrible. 

‘Please, show me some mercy,’ I whimpered, falling to my knees.  It was the first time I had ever been truly frightened, and I hated it.

‘Mercy, since when did you care for mercy?  Oh no, for you is a fate deserving of every cruelty which you have mercilessly put upon the undeserving, a curse which can only be broken by something almost impossible.’

Before I had a chance to ask the enchantress raised her arms and out of the dirt rose a large lodge, much like the one father had, and around it began to pop up massive evergreens, fully grown and majestic.  

The enchantress told me that I had a century to break the curse, a century in which I would remain ageless, and as each decade passed a tree would crumble to the ground, nothing but ash and belladonna in it’s wake, a reminder that my time was up.  

She then turned on me, raising her hands and, with a cruel smile on her lips, transformed me into this hideous creature you see before you.

I was given thirty members of the enchantress’s soldiers, fair folk of this very forest, to tend to my needs, and slowly a core group of these fae became close with me, and for the first time in my life I believe that I felt companionship.  

Now I am here, and there are a few trees left standing, a dying warning to a dying man.”

 

Gaston did not look at me when he spoke, and once he finished his tale he shuddered, face in his hands, as though the memories were unbearable to him. He omitted details of the curse, but I did not push him, not when the price was obviously so high.  I squashed my curiosity for now, and instead reached to take the furred hands in mine, so that they no longer covered his face.

“You’ve changed Gaston.  I see nothing of this bloodthirsty man that you were.  I have been served here as though I was a prince, and though I disobeyed your only rule you still treat me as a guest.  It is more than I deserve,” I said gently, and Gaston stared at me as though I had grown a second head.

“You believe this, you are not repulsed by me after all that I have done?”

“It must have been half a century ago, things change,” I said, and offered him a small smile.

“I- I- I am glad you are recovering.  I must leave you for a moment, I will return,” Gaston said, looking stricken, hands shaking as he stood from his chair and moved to the door.

“Wait a moment Gaston, I would like to say one more thing.”

He turned and looked at me, eyes darting to the door as though he wanted to run.

“Yes?”  
“Pierre,” I said simply.

“Pardon?”

“You gave me your name, and so I must return the courtesy.  My name is Pierre.”

My breath caught at the look Gaston gave me, half incredulous and half hopeful, as though I’d just given him an unimaginable gift.

“Very well, no please rest...Pierre.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things are starting to come together! Thank you for your patience and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

My recovery was swift, and I was attended by silent grim fae all bearing frowns and few words.  When he could be spared from his duties Stanley would come to visit, even going so far as to teach me a little of embroidery so I would not be quite so bored whilst I was bedridden.  He needn’t have worried however, because Gaston was by my side almost constantly.  

I was so full of questions, about the lodge and himself, and he answered what he could, though some questions he ignored.  I did not begrudge him this, if I were in his place I did not know if I would be able to answer a single question someone posed me, it would be too painful.  

We spoke of other things as well, of botany, of music, and of Paris, that great city which I so desired to see.  

“It is so full of people, so rich with culture and beauty, I do believe you would love it,” Gaston said with a wistful smile.

“I can’t imagine there is a person alive who wouldn’t like to see it,” I replied.

“I suppose you’re right,” He laughed.  

My eyes widened.  I had never heard Gaston laugh before.  It was a deep, pleasing sound, and had my stomach in butterflies.  I blushed when I our eyes met, and turned mine downwards.  

For a moment we sat together in a strangely charged silence, until Gaston cleared his throat.

“Well Pierre, I will leave you to your rest, you must recover quickly for I have a few tokens for you, surprises if you will.”

I smiled from ear to ear and settled more comfortably into bed once my friend stood up.

“In that case, I look forward to recovering,” I replied, and he nodded before leaving the room.

My recovery was slow, but not unbearably so, and I kindled a stronger friendship with Stanley, who was now far more willing to talk after the ordeal which had brought Gaston and myself closer.  However, there was one question he had still not answered.

“My friend, why do the other fae resent Gaston and I so?  I know that he was not a good man in the past but that has changed, what is the point of holding on to hate like that?”

Stanley was silent for a moment looking through the window at the full moon that hung high in the black night.  When he turned his eyes back to me he looked impossibly sad.

“My dear Lefou, you must understand that my people are not very kind, and fae such as Armand and myself are quite uncommon,” Stanley began, voice quiet.

“The fae which the enchantress selected to serve were, as the master said, soldier fae.  They are grizzled warriors, unaccustomed to this sort of work, this monotony.”

“Well that’s just unfair,” I exclaimed, trying to sit up and finding myself held down by a gentle yet firm hand.

“I know, but none of this is exactly fair.  In any case Armand, Giselle, and myself are the only ones who never truly resented him, and as such we were put in charge of the household.  It is also the reason why Gaston sent Armand to look after your father periodically.”

The thought of my father sent a twinge of sadness through my heart.

“Do you think Armand would tell me how papa is,” I asked, and Stanley nodded.

“I can fetch him if you like,” Stanley said with a smile.  At my nod he disappeared in thin air.  

My first few days here I thought I would never get used to the magic that was so casually used around the lodge, but now it felt like something I had been seeing my whole life.  It certainly made life easier, knowing my plants would not wither and die because of sudden upheavals in weather, and popping into the kitchens only to find I already had a midnight snack prepared for me.  

Within moments Stanley popped in with Armand at his side.  The darker fae came to me, face impassive but manner welcoming.

“What is it you would like to know monsieur,” He asked.  Armand was always formal, even when I had begged him not to be so, but I now knew a lost battle when I saw one. 

“Is papa well,” I asked?

When Armand sighed I knew something was wrong.  Knots began to form in my stomach, and waited with baited breath for the fae to speak.

“Your father’s health remains unchanged, I make sure of that myself.  However, my first visit frightened him, especially when I told him what had happened to you.  Though I tried to talk him out of it he has gone to the nobleman who left you in this mess to begin with.  Lord Adam laughed in his face, of course, but I worry that he plans to have your father committed, or something worse.”

“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” I whimpered, eyes burning as tears leaked from the corners of my eyes.  A chilly hand touched my shoulder and I looked over at Armand, whose eyes softened in sympathy.

“I promise you, as long as I watch over him I will let no harm come to your father.”

“And if you cannot stop it,” I said without thinking, then clamped my hands over my mouth.

“If it comes to that, then I will have my vengeance, do not fear,” Armand replied, and the determination in his eyes seemed truly fearsome.  

I nodded, and took his hand in mine for a moment.

“Thank you my friend.  I do not know what I would have done without you.”

“Don’t thank me, thank the master.  Without him I would have stood by and done nothing.  Without him Stanley and I would not have grown as  _ fond  _ of your presence as we did.”

I smiled at that.  

“Is it strange that I now hold what seems like boundless affection for someone I thought I would abhor for all my days,” I asked.

Armand shook his head, then stood to leave the room.  Before he disappeared however, he turned to me one more time.

“Let me say, Lefou, that I am quite happy to see your affection towards Gaston blossoming, your closeness is a wonderful thing I assure you.”

A moment later all that was left was thin air and I was alone, pondering what on earth he could mean.  After all, Armand stood to gain nothing from my friendship with Gaston.  I attributed it to fae oddities and closed my eyes, allowing unconsciousness to overtake me.

That night my dreams were filled with strange woods, father’s shadow, and Gaston’s human form, beckoning me to places I had only ever imagined.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg I'm so so sorry about the hiatus, I suddenly lost my muse, but it's back now and I hope the coming chapters will make up for it!

When I was finally well once more I relished being able to tend the garden again.  Most afternoons Gaston would join me, making amused and snarky remarks.  I would laugh and offer retorts every now and then.

             “You know, I have never felt such perfect harmony,” I said as I helped Stanley slice vegetables. Gaston had retired to his room that afternoon, after one of his increasingly rare dark moods hit him.

             “I agree, it’s been quite lovely, almost like being around a married couple,” Stanley laughed, a twinkle in his eyes.

             I stumbled in the slicing and almost took off my own finger, swiveling my head to Stanley in shock.

             “Now really, I couldn’t, I shouldn’t, well, he is rather kind,” I finished lamely, wishing in vain that I could stop blushing.  Stanley gave me a calculating look that I didn’t at all like and moved his hands from the stuffing bowl to my shoulders.

             “you know, my friend, I believe Master feels as strongly for you as you do for him.”

             That was all Stanley said about the matter, for the next moment he was back to the roast stuffing as though nothing had occurred.  My mind, however, was whirling.  Stanley surely did not know what he spoke of, for my feelings had bloomed so quickly that I had grown terrified of them.

             At night I dreamed of Gaston, both as a mortal and a beast, of us living somewhere in Paris, anonymous and unguarded. I could imagine the fae disguised as regular servants, accompanying us.  Of course, it could never be but the thought was nice.  I could imagine us walking along the left bank, talking about everything and nothing.  I could have watched the fashionable ladies and gentlemen walk of saloons, tended my own little garden in my own little piece of heaven.  Papa would want for nothing, Gaston and I would take care of him, and we would be away from Adam and Belle once and for all.

             “-ierre, Pierre are you all right?  Dinner is to be served soon, Master is expecting you.”

             I jumped, startled at having my thoughts interrupted, and quickly rushed into the dining room where the beast indeed waited, wearing a rather ornate set of tunic and hose I’d never seen him wear before. 

             The garb was purple and gold, adorned with tassels that glistened in the candlelight. I resisted the urge to laugh, knowing it would not go over well with my friend if I were to laugh at the expense of his appearance, no matter how outlandish it seemed.

             “You seem to be quite dressed up for dinner,” I said, amazed at myself for even keeping a straight face.  Gaston’s chest puffed out in pride.

             “I hoped you would like them.  They have been in my family for generations, worn after victories and during great feasts,” he said with pride.

             “It is certainly quite festive,” I replied with a smile at Gaston’s enthusiasm.  I was about to take a sip from my goblet of wine before he held out his glass.

             “To your good health,” he simply said, and for a moment there was silence as we both drank deeply from our goblets.  The tenderness in his voice had moved me greatly, but I did not speak of it for underneath that tenderness I could still see the stormclouds over his head.

             We ate quietly.  I had by now grown used to the rich food, picking my favorites among the feast without waste. 

             I had almost finished my meal, and finally drawn my friend into a discussion when Armand burst into the room, clothing ripped and dirty, iridescent blood dripping from a gash in his side.

             Gaston and I were up in an instant, managing to get the fae into a chair.

             “What happened,” Gaston growled, rage filling his voice at the sight of his servant thus injured.

             Armand, however, did not look at Gaston.  Instead, he fixed his eyes upon me.  His face was pale, breathing labored.  I broke out into a cold sweat when he began to speak.

             “I- I am so sorry Pierre, Master I have failed you both.  I-I was a fool,” He took a shuddering breath and began to speak again, though his voice seemed considerably weaker.

             “Your father has been taken to a madhouse.  I appeared before Adam in my most fearsome form, but upon realizing the truth he grew mad with hunger for bloodshed.  He desires to be the one to kill the beast.  His men took me unawares, I should have- I should have-.”  When Armand’s breathing grew too labored for speech he laid his head down in defeat.

             Gaston roared, a sound so loud it shook the walls and sent crumbs of stone careening from the ceiling.  Stanley materialized before us and almost fainted when he saw the condition of his dear companion.

             “No, oh by God what are we to do,” he moaned when we told him what had occurred.  I felt myself tremble with fear.  Instead of giving in to his own fear Gaston drew himself to his full height and gazed at us, eyes cold as chips of ice.

             “Stanley, prepare the weapons.  If bloodshed is what Lord Adam wants, you can be sure he will have it.”


	10. Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just two more chapters left to go! This chapter is quite short but I wanted to end it so that the action could all be in a nice long chapter. Enjoy!

My heart beat like a drum as I watched the fae prepare their weapons, faces like marble.  My eyes were red-rimmed from the past hour of crying.  Shame burned my cheeks at the thought of it, but what Gaston had done after Armand’s confession shook me to the core.

             _“I will fight the prince and his men.”_

_“What of the curse? Gaston, you cannot fight him,” I cried.  The beast looked at me with cold eyes._

_“Pierre, I free you from your bonds here.  The wards will fall if they perceive the place to be in mortal danger. Go, find your father, the battlefield is no place for kind men.”  Gaston’s voice was rough with, dark fur shaking._

_“What?  No, I can’t leave you now, I’ll – I’ll-“  The word ‘fight’ died on my lips.  There was no way I could fight, but if I didn’t fight I would die._

_For a tense moment there was silence, then the beast laughed bitterly._

_“I thought as much.  Pack and leave from here Pierre, I have much to prepare for.”_

My heart hurt and my head spun as I turned away from the fae and to the open door of the lodge.  I clutched the rough knapsack to my chest and began to walk through that threshold, unable to even muster up the courage to say goodbye to Stanley or Armand, both of whom who had been so good to me during my stay here.

             When the news of Adam’s coming attack arrived two trees shook and turned to ash, and now only one tree remained, looking sickly and dull.  With the wards removed there was no shining barrier, just the harsh forest beyond. 

             Animals were sniffing curiously at the sudden expansion of their hunting grounds.  I shoed a few away before unhitching a horse that a fae had summoned. I mounted it and rode off, pretending to ignore the tears that stung my cheeks.

             Trees passed in a blur as I rode as quickly as I could, breathing in time with the hard gallop of the horse.  It was a true fae steed, black as ink and fast as the wind.  All while I thought of the creature, the man, I was leaving behind.  Gaston had come to mean so much to me.  He was a true friend, and beneath that exterior he was so kind, so quick to please, and so starved for affection. 

             Each time I had lain a gentle hand upon his arm he would give me an incredulous look.  The first time I touched those gigantic antlers he started, eyes wide.  I had never felt so close to anyone before.

             As I neared my village I began to notice burned out torches littering the ground, as well as the signs of a bonfire in a pit filled with char and stones.  Hoof-marks practically dented the ground I passed, and bile suddenly rose in my throat.

             _Adam has already left; the party took a different route._

             No. No, no it couldn’t be happening, not yet.  The lodge was wood and stone, easy enough to get into.  The fae would be able to survive but what of Gaston.

             I could not put to words, even in my mind, the thought of Gaston being _gone_ , it was simply unthinkable. 

             That was when I realized how blind I had been to what was right in front of me.

             “My God, I love him,” I cried out into the dark emptiness.  I knew I had a choice to make.

             With shaking hands, I took the journal, quill, and ink from my knapsack.  I wrote as quickly as I could, cramming my handwriting into a single page, then tore it out and put everything back, making sure to put the note at the top so that it was visible. I tied it around the horse’s neck and whispered urgently.

             “Please, noble steed, run to madhouse and leave this there.”

             The horse whinnied in protest, but I pushed it in the proper direction and saw that it set off again before running back to the lodge.  There was no way I was going to leave Gaston.

             Every step set my legs aflame as I ran ceaselessly.  Low-hanging branches scratched my face and birds screeched at me but I paid them no heed.  My single-minded purpose kept me on my feet.

             “Pierre, what in God’s name are you doing here!” Stanley was in armor of amber and gold, eyes flashing with worry through the holes in his helmet.

             “I will fight with you, I cannot leave Gaston, not in his hour of need,” I said breathlessly.

             “Are you mad, you have never even fought in a battle,” Stanley cried.

             “I don’t care, I’m not leaving him!”  My voice rose to a shout and suddenly Gaston came out from the threshold of the door, wearing thick mail and clutching a longsword in his right hand.

             “You should not have come back,” Gaston thundered.  I put a hand out and placed it, splayed, against his forearm.  The action silenced Gaston and he fixed me with an unreadable expression.  

Whatever he was about to say was interrupted with the arrow that shot in an arc through the sky, landing in the flank of one of the horses.

         “Well well, Lefou.  I suppose you’ve chosen your allegiance.”

         Adam stood at the head of twenty villagers, gazing imperiously at Gaston.  Before I knew what was happening, Adam shouted out a command and twenty men on horses charged.


	11. Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the second to last chapter! I hope you enjoy it, the epilogue will be up shortly!

In all twenty-three years of my life I had never seen such carnage. 

         Gaston opened his mouth and let out a piercing battle cry.  The men clashed. Blood stained the air and snow like a wine as a glass smashes to the ground.

         My heart pounded in my ears and before I could fathom what I was doing the sword of a fallen man was in my hand.  I joined the fray like a man possessed, slashing at horses and men alike to drive them away.

         “Don’t let them get past the door,” Stanley shouted, running after a man who had crept past the fae ranks and headed to the door. I ran after the man unthinking, gripping the sword so tightly my knuckles turned white.

         “No, Pierre,” Stanley screamed, but everyone was engaged in battle, and if I had to die here at least I would die being useful. 

         I didn’t want to die Lefou, the village idiot.  I didn’t want to die alone, having done nothing but gardened and cared for an ill father.  I had seen so much, experienced so much, in the five months I’d been here.

         I was going to defend that to my last breath.

         With a strength hardly expected of myself leapt the last few paces and drove the sword into the man’s back. It felt differently than I expected it to.  My arm pushed as the body fought against the intrusion of the blade.  Bright blood, its scent thick and heavy, trickled from the silver of the blade and soaked his overcoat.  I could hear a gurgling noise and fought to keep myself from vomiting as I wrenched the blade from his body, almost falling backwards.

         I had killed.  I had taken a life. 

         I felt numb as I ran back into the fray, the sounds of metal clashing with metal far away to my ears. The bodies of human and fae alike littered the place that had once been my garden.  Red mixed with iridescent black and created a twisted mural as the fighting continued.  Feet stamped through the blood as though it were merely water flowing through an unseen stream.

         “What in God’s name do you think your doing,” Gaston demanded when I weaved through the crowd to fight beside him.

         “Well,” I dodged a cudgel’s blow, “I am helping.”

         “You should have- “he thrust his longsword into the chest of a robust man, “Stayed away!”

         I shook my head and turned to block a blow to Stanley’s back.

         As the battle went on my limbs began to grow heavy.  Soon I was barely able to block blows.  I watched through hazy eyes as man after man went after me.  Their faces blurred into one monstrous miasma.  

         _I suppose these will be my final moments,_ I thought.

         I wondered if papa would be alright, if someone would free him. 

         I wondered if my life would be enough to spare Gaston’s.

         A blade came swiftly towards me, but instead of feeling pain I heard the clang of metal.  My eyes suddenly focused, mouth wide open in surprise as Armand gripped my arm, pulling me along beside him.

         “Master would destroy us if anything were to happen to you. Don’t think I would let you die so easily Pierre,” the fae said gruffly.  His armor was stained with blood, and the bandage peeking from the gaps in the metal was just as red.

         “You’re still bleeding, you should be inside,” I said weakly.

         “Never mind my injuries, you look as though you’re about to faint,” Armand breathed.

         We were fighting some stragglers alone when I heard twin screams that pierced the night air.  My heart froze in my chest and I turned towards the source of the sound.

         Adam lay on the ground, Gaston’s longsword in his chest.  In front of him stood Gaston, with Adam’s axe lodged in his furred chest.

         In that moment nothing in the world could have stopped me as I wrenched my arm from Armand’s grasp and ran towards Gaston.  My eyes burned with tears as I managed to reach Gaston just as he collapsed.  We fell to the ground together; I grasped onto his dark cape, muttering madly as his blood painted my hands.

         “Gaston, Gaston, please don’t do this don’t die,” I said, sobs wracking my body.  All at once all the pain that the heat of battle had kept at bay, and I felt my whole body sag as I sobbed. 

             “No- Don’t cry my dear Pierre, p-p-please,” the beast pleaded, each word a shuddering gasp for breath.

             “Gaston, you can’t die, I love you, I love you so much.” 

             I didn’t mean to do it, I didn’t mean to blurt it out so suddenly, but I didn’t know if I would have another chance. Tears continued to slip down my cheeks as Gaston raised a paw and placed it in the center of my chest.

             “It has been an honor to be loved by you,” the beast said, voice faint and far away.   His hand became slack in mine as what remained of Adam’s men headed back towards the forest, not bothering to collect the dead. 

             “No, NO!” I screamed.  I beat at Gaston’s chest, as thought I could force his heart to beat again.  I could feel a fae wrap his arms around my waist and try to haul me off of Gaston but, by sheer force of will, I stayed rooted to the spot.  

             “Please, please, if there is a higher power, I beg you to bring him back, take me instead,” I sobbed, voice hoarse now.  

             Suddenly I felt warmth under my fingers and Gaston’s chest not only began to move… it began to change.  

             “My God the curse, it broke,” Stanley breathed.  He pulled me to my feet and this time I allowed myself to be moved backwards.  The fur and animistic visage began to melt into the ground, each hair sprouting into a cornflower.  Those mighty antlers dropped from his head and sprouted, in mere moments, to a towering oak.  The tree stood out among the evergreens, like a trophy in a desolate land.

             “Y-you did it, you broke the curse,” Armand said, voice hushed.

             Before me lay the man from the portrait, the real Gaston.  My heart sand when his eyes fluttered open and for the first time in my life I thought:

             “Everything will be all right.”


	12. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, at the final chapter. It's been a fun ride and I'm so thankful to everyone who bookmarked, left kudos, and commented.

**_One Year Later_ **

             “Honestly Gaston, this may be a little extravagant,” I said with a laugh.  

             A gilded _divan_ was in the middle of the apartment Gaston had bought in Paris with his previously untouched fortune.

             “It matches the table,” He argued, handsome face daring me to retort.  I rolled my eyes instead and didn’t even look at the gold dinner table he’d bought last week.  Of course, all the gold didn’t bother me because it was only our summer home.  

             We inhabited the lodge the rest of the year, tied to the quaint place, for without it fate could never have brought us together.  The fae would occasionally visit us, but with the curse broken our ability to feel and see them had dwindled.  

             Armand and Stanley came to us in dreams now, mostly, or in the form of gentle twinkles in the trees.  It was quiet in the lodge, and the villagers hardly bothered us.  

             When we needed some company, we would go to the Paris apartment. We would visit my father there, for Gaston’s funds had allowed us to buy lodgings to his liking as well.  I no longer had to worry about anything except the life I led.  

             As I lay in bed beside the man I loved, listening to the sounds of Paris below us, I had to thank my lucky stars that I went to that house among the evergreens.


End file.
